(1844 - 1900)
sublime one saw I today, a solemn one, a penitent of the
spirit: Oh, how my soul laughed at his ugliness! (thus
WHEN yester-eve the moon arose,
then did I fancy it about to bear a sun: so broad and teeming
did it lie on the horizon.
But it was a liar with its
pregnancy; and sooner will I believe in the man in the moon
than in the woman.
To be sure, little of a man
is he also, that timid night-reveller. Verily, with a bad
conscience doth he stalk over the roofs.
For he is covetous and jealous,
the monk in the moon; covetous of the earth, and all the joys
Nay, I like him not, that tom-cat
on the roofs! Hateful unto me are all that slink around half-closed
Piously and silently doth he
stalk along on the star-carpets:- but I like no light-treading
human feet, on which not even a spur jingleth.
Every honest one's step speaketh;
the cat however, stealeth along over the ground. Lo! cat-like
doth the moon come along, and dishonestly.This parable speak
I unto you sentimental dissemblers, unto you, the "pure
discerners!" You do I call- covetous ones!
Also ye love the earth, and
the earthly: I have divined you well!- but shame is in your
love, and a bad conscience- ye are like the moon!
To despise the earthly hath
your spirit been persuaded, but not your bowels: these, however,
are the strongest in you!
And now is your spirit ashamed
to be at the service of your bowels, and goeth in by-ways
and lying ways to escape its own shame.
"That would be the highest
thing for me"- so saith your lying spirit unto itself-
"to gaze upon life without desire, and not like the dog,
with hanging-out tongue:
To be happy in gazing: with
dead will, free from the grip and greed of selfishness- cold
and ashy-grey all over, but with intoxicated moon-eyes!
That would be the dearest thing
to me"- thus doth the seduced one seduce himself,- "to
love the earth as the moon loveth it, and with the eye only
to feel its beauty.
And this do I call immaculate
perception of all things: to want nothing else from them,
but to be allowed to lie before them as a mirror with a hundred
facets."Oh, ye sentimental dissemblers, ye covetous ones!
Ye lack innocence in your desire: and now do ye defame desiring
on that account!
Verily, not as creators, as
procreators, or as jubilators do ye love the earth!
Where is innocence? Where there
is will to procreation. And he who seeketh to create beyond
himself, hath for me the purest will.
Where is beauty? Where I must
will with my whole Will; where I will love and perish, that
an image may not remain merely an image.
Loving and perishing: these
have rhymed from eternity. Will to love: that is to be ready
also for death. Thus do I speak unto you cowards!
But now doth your emasculated
ogling profess to be "contemplation!" And that which
can be examined with cowardly eyes is to be christened "beautiful!"
Oh, ye violators of noble names!
But it shall be your curse,
ye immaculate ones, ye pure discerners, that ye shall never
bring forth, even though ye lie broad and teeming on the horizon!
Verily, ye fill your mouth
with noble words: and we are to believe that your heart overfloweth,
But my words are poor, contemptible,
stammering words: gladly do I pick up what falleth from the
table at your repasts.
Yet still can I say therewith
the truth- to dissemblers! Yea, my fish-bones, shells, and
prickly leaves shall- tickle the noses of dissemblers!
Bad air is always about you
and your repasts: your lascivious thoughts, your lies, and
secrets are indeed in the air!
Dare only to believe in yourselves-
in yourselves and in your inward parts! He who doth not believe
in himself always lieth.
A God's mask have ye hung in
front of you, ye "pure ones": into a God's mask
hath your execrable coiling snake crawled.
Verily ye deceive, ye "contemplative
ones!" Even Zarathustra was once the dupe of your godlike
exterior; he did not divine the serpent's coil with which
it was stuffed.
A God's soul, I once thought
I saw playing in your games, ye pure discerners! No better
arts did I once dream of than your arts!
Serpents' filth and evil odour,
the distance concealed from me: and that a lizard's craft
prowled thereabouts lasciviously.
But I came nigh unto you: then
came to me the day,- and now cometh it to you,- at an end
is the moon's love affair!
See there! Surprised and pale
doth it stand- before the rosy dawn!
For already she cometh, the
glowing one,- her love to the earth cometh! Innocence, and
creative desire, is all solar love!
See there, how she cometh impatiently
over the sea! Do ye not feel the thirst and the hot breath
of her love?
At the sea would she suck,
and drink its depths to her height: now riseth the desire
of the sea with its thousand breasts.
Kissed and sucked would it
be by the thirst of the sun; vapour would it become, and height,
and path of light, and light itself!
Verily, like the sun do I love
life, and all deep seas.
And this meaneth to me knowledge:
all that is deep shall ascend- to my height!Thus spake Zarathustra.
qu'on fait n'est jamais compris mais seulement loué ou blâmé.
Nietzsche, Gay Science